


One Day the Sun Will Come Out

by reijeux



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Abuse, Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-25
Updated: 2013-10-25
Packaged: 2017-12-30 10:18:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1017412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reijeux/pseuds/reijeux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-WWII. Slightly based off the doujinshi, Affection is a Warm Ruler, only with more bitterness and anger.<br/>After the war, Alfred is given the responsibility of caring for Kiku until Kiku recovers and can take care of himself again. However, neither party is happy with this arrangement...</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Day the Sun Will Come Out

**Author's Note:**

> Title is lyric from Coldplay's "Lovers in Japan."  
> I wrote this over a year ago and was iffy on posting it because of the content, but still really wanted to share it, so here it is. Enjoy!

Waking up with a racing heart and a cold sweat were the last things Alfred cared to wake up to every morning, let alone that one. Every night, he went to sleep hoping to visit a much better place in his dreams and wake up refreshed. Instead he was only revisiting places where the passed war reigned and the memories of destruction made him feel more exhausted than he had when he went to bed.

He spent a moment laying still, staring up at the ceiling as his breath slowed. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon outside, from what he could tell by the lighting inside the room. How he wished he could just sleep in, and in his _own_ room for once. 

Breathing in, he rubbed his eyes with a hand, using his other hand to pick up his glasses from where they lay on the floor beside his futon. Sitting up, Alfred slipped on his glasses, looking around and taking in the view around him to remember where exactly he was. 

A sick feeling rested in the pit of his stomach, that same sick feeling that was always there every time he woke up ever since the end of the war. That feeling just wouldn’t go away, not until he was allowed to leave this damned place. 

Alfred stood, opening the sliding doors that lead to the outside. He closed his eyes, tilting his head up, and let the chill morning air caress his skin. He almost missed listening to the now absent cicadas’ sound next to the tweets of the birds just now waking up. 

He supposed mornings like these were one nice thing about this fucking country; the mornings and the cherry blossom trees, but those weren’t even in bloom at this time of year. Just the mornings and the trees were all he cared enough to admit to remotely liking. 

Keeping the doors open, he turned back towards the room and picked up the shirt resting a ways from the foot of his futon. Slipping it on, Alfred left the room to the dimmed hallway, making his way to the one room he really wished he didn’t need to go into.

Standing before the shouji door, he breathed in, controlling all of the bubbling anger that  suddenly threatened to explode from his gut and chest. He opened the door, and silently walked toward the occupied futon in the center of the room.

A dark haired man lay sleeping in the futon; his pale features showed gradually fading scars, but despite having them, he slept as if he didn’t have a single worry in the world.

Kiku was sleeping.

In a way, he really wasn’t.

But he was.

The weak light that was allowed into the room made it clear to Alfred that this man was breathing calmly. Kiku looked as if he were sleeping just as any other person would sleep, peacefully. A gentle aura emitted from his unconscious features, only forcing Alfred to scowl in disgust, turning away to head for the kitchen.

Kiku was sleeping.

And when he was awake, he was still sleeping. But he really was awake.

He just wasn’t _there_.

Of course, everyone discovered right after the war what was wrong with him in the first place, which was _apparently **Alfred’s**_ fault, and he _naturally_ had to take responsibility for his actions (which he had been _fucking_ told to do). Alfred’s boss put him up to taking care of him until the smaller man got better.

Which could be weeks. Months. It had _already_ been a long fucking time since he started staying.

Alfred hated every second of being here. He hated every second of being anywhere _near_ that fucking nation.

Of _course_ they were friends.

How about emphasizing: They _were_ friends.

They had been more than…

The blonde nation stood in the kitchen in front of the stove, warming up some of the fish stew that was left over from the night before, thanks to Osaka.

Osaka was a good guy. A really good cook to boot. Alfred couldn’t bring himself to hate him, but he found it _so_ easy to hate Kiku. _Only_ Kiku. 

Alfred let the stew heat up enough to a boil for a moment before dishing it into two small bowls.

One for himself. One for Kiku.

Setting them on a tray, Alfred walked back to Kiku’s room. He placed the tray on the floor by the doorway before kneeling by the smaller man’s futon.

“Hey, Japan.” He spoke softly, nudging him. “You have to eat. Wake up.”

This was how things were every morning. Alfred would get some food warmed up for breakfast, then wake Kiku. Afterwards, he would give him a wash with a towel and then a change of clothes to wear throughout the day until he needed to be changed for bed.

Alfred would then sit with him for a majority of the day and talk about nothing and everything. When he wasn’t sitting with him, he’d be fixing something to eat or getting help from Osaka to deal with Kiku’s other bodily needs, which was really just Osaka offering to do the work for him, and Alfred allowed.

The entire time he would be awake, however, Kiku kept his silence, staring out at whatever was in front of him with even more blank eyes than he was usually known for.

That was what he was now: a mindless doll.

A pretty one.

As Alfred sat the now awakened nation up and got ready to feed him, he took note at how small and frail he felt under his hands today.

So frail.

 _Weak_.

Alfred could kill him now if he could. He could have killed him the day before, or the day before that, or the day before that. It would be _really_ easy. He could simply wrap his hands around that pale neck and squeeze. _Break it._ End it all.

_You know you want to, Alfred. Snap that pretty neck. Free yourself from ever dealing from this fucker ever again._

He didn’t.

Instead, Alfred pulled the food tray over and picked up Kiku’s bowl, proceeding to feed him the stew, as best as he possibly could with someone who was a fucking borderline _vegetable_.

Some days, Alfred was lucky and had little spill to clean up afterwards.

Other days, which happened to be most days, he wasn’t as lucky.

This just happened to be one of those unlucky days.

Following breakfast was washing him and changing his clothes.

In earlier days, cleaning him was more difficult, as Kiku really didn’t do any responding. At all. Alfred actually needed Osaka’s help to move him around.

Now, however, Kiku moved, just barely, just to help him with at least some of the manual labor, whether it be a simple (slight) lift of the arms or a (slight) tilt to the side. It was clear that he really was _slowly_ getting better, and was acknowledging the _fucking trouble_ he was causing Alfred.

The bits of help that Kiku managed to offer, Alfred appreciated _greatly_.

Dipping a washcloth into a wooden bucket of warm water, he rung the cloth shortly after pulling it back out and carefully ran it over the smaller man’s scarred chest, ridding it of the bits of stew that ran down his chin earlier.

Alfred rinsed the washcloth in the bucket again, ringing it afterwards, and then running it over Kiku’s back. He placed a hand on the man’s shoulder to hold him still as he washed him.

 _Soft, warm_ skin. Proof that Kiku was even still _alive._

He didn’t deserve to be.

Not after all of the things he had done. All the people he had hurt and killed with a _smile_.

Alfred didn’t know why he was even treating this person as if he deserved any amount of kindness that was offered to him.

A sudden, “Ah,” sounded from the back of Kiku’s throat, taking Alfred by surprise for a moment before he realized he was squeezing Kiku’s shoulder too hard. Quickly letting go, guilt spreading throughout his chest.

Alfred muttered out an immediate apology before running the cloth over the now slightly pink skin. He wanted to rid it of the bit of color he had accidentally brought to it, wanting to return it to its snow white shade so Kiku could remain looking as dead as he acted. He only succeeded in making the skin look pinker.

Kiku barely turned his head in what seemed like an attempt to look at him, only to drop his head down to gaze at the floor instead of out into space, leaving Alfred to continue washing him.

So, Kiku confirmed that he really wasn’t all that mindless of a person as he had been after the war ended.

After slipping him into a clean yukata (a feat Alfred needed help from Osaka for, for the longest time), Alfred pulled the smaller male to his feet. It was at this time when he took Kiku to sit outside, just to look at the trees and talk.

With Alfred doing the talking, of course.

This was how they spent every day.

“I’m gonna be heading back home in a few days just to do a quick rain check, then I’ll come back.” Alfred said on this particular day, “Osaka’s got your back anyway, so there’s nothing to worry about.” He rested back on his hands, staring out at one of the newly bare trees in the yard. It was nearing the end of the year already, so of course the trees would lose their leaves and the weather would grow much colder.

A few months really _had_ passed since he was forced to come take care of Kiku. 

The breeze that blew past them turned Alfred’s head slightly, just in time for him to see the smaller man shiver only slightly. 

“Cold?”

No response. Just a blank stare that wasn’t even directed towards him.

With a sigh, Alfred stood and went into Kiku’s room to find the haori he could wear over his yukata for warmth. Finding it right away, something else caught his eye before he could even leave the room.

How had he not noticed it before? The little whale carved from wood that he had given to Kiku ages ago to signify their friendship. Propped on the windowsill.

Alfred couldn’t believe he had forgotten all about it.

Brushing thoughts of the past from his mind, he went back outside to find Kiku in the same spot as he had been earlier. Of course he wouldn’t have moved.

He draped the haori over Kiku’s shoulders, slipping the man’s arms into the loose sleeves. 

“Better?” he asked softly, sitting back down in his usual spot. Still no response. _Of course_.

_Why are you even being this civil with him, why not just let him freeze. He deserves all the terrible things coming to him. Anything that happens to him is just doing the world a favor._

Kiku was just a fucking deadweight, after all.

_He hurt you, and he hurt his **family** , that is something that should never be forgiven._

Alfred could only watch the oblivious man as these upsetting thoughts began plaguing his mind. With every second that passed from just looking at Kiku, more hatred swelled in his chest and that awful, sickening feeling in his gut grew even worse. His fingers tingled and his hands clenched themselves, itching to hurt Kiku in any way he possibly could.

To break him as much as he broke the people he had once been close to. Or at least, _pretended_ to be close to.

All this time, Alfred said only calm things to Kiku. Decent things. Not a single drop of malice seeped from his lips during his stay.

When he opened his mouth next, however...

“Fuck you.”

Whether or not this stirred any sort of emotion within the smaller male, Alfred didn’t know. He didn’t even really care. He only clenched his teeth for a moment, before continuing.

“Fuck you, you _fucking_... cold-hearted _monster,_ why do _you_ get to have special treatment after all the shit _you_ put everyone through? You don’t even deserve a bowl of _stew_. Hell, you don’t even deserve to have a friend like Osaka around.”

Standing, he shoved Kiku onto his side, giving him an extra good shove with his foot afterwards, before barging back into the house with a simple, “Son of a bitch.” Kiku could only tremble, barely able to curl himself up.

Without the soft breeze flowing and the very faint sound of a dripping tear, the world would have been nothing but silent.

Kiku remained laying as he had been left for the rest of the day, skipping lunch, until it was time for dinner. It was then that Alfred returned and helped him up, taking him back into his room as if nothing had happened.

Alfred fed him, as he usually did, the remaining fish stew, before getting him changed and putting him to bed.

“Night, Japan.” He simply said and shut off the light.

Went back to his own room.

Got ready for bed.

And the process repeated itself.

As the weeks passed, Kiku was slowly growing more capable of functioning properly on his own. However, still not one word was uttered from his lips.

Each day passed in silence when it came to the dark haired man; Alfred continued to speak as usual-- however, ever since that day, each word that came out of his mouth was dribbled with obvious dislike towards Kiku.

Kiku was now finally able feed himself, wash himself, dress himself, walk around on his own... but not to his full extent. That was why Alfred hadn't left yet.

He truly wanted the American to leave.

If Alfred hated him so much, he shouldn't have to be there.

He didn't want to see Alfred when he was like this, even if he knew he deserved every ounce of verbal cruelty he was receiving from the man who had once been more than happy enough, _proud_ , to call him his friend.

Looking at Alfred now, Kiku’s heart ached for the days when he was allowed to see the bigger man’s carefree side.

"Why won't you talk?" Alfred asked, sitting across from him as they ate dinner, legs hidden under the heavy blanket of the kotatsu to keep warm. Kiku kept his gaze on his rice, hand trembling as he did his best to keep a firm hold on his chopsticks.

Not even he himself understood why he wouldn't talk. He probably could if he tried, but… he just didn't find the need for it, not anymore.

"You should say something," The blonde spoke, taking a sip of the miso soup he had managed to fix without any help from Osaka (another feat he realized he was more proud about than he should have been).

Still looking down at his rice, Kiku glanced off to the side, as if shaking his head half-heartedly. He realized he was afraid of speaking… or maybe… too afraid of Alfred to speak?

From the corner of his eye, he saw Alfred's chest rise for a moment before sinking again; Alfred was angry.

"You can't keep quiet forever."

_Yes, I can._

Kiku wanted to tell him to go home. He wasn't making him stay. _Just go home!_

After a moment of silence, he watched as Alfred set his chopsticks down, getting up from his spot and rounding the kotatsu to reach him. Before Kiku could look up at him properly, the taller man grabbed him by the arm, pulling him up to his feet before punching him in the side of the face. As he did so, he let go of his arm, letting Kiku stumble back and fall onto his bottom.

"Talk!" Alfred kneeled and grabbed him by the shoulders. "Fucking _talk_!!"

As he was being roughly shaken, Kiku wanted to fight back. He truly did.

But he deserved this. 

That's what he kept telling himself, _he deserved this_.

"Why won't you fucking talk?!"

Another punch.

Kiku clenched his fists.

Everything _hurt_.

+

"I'm ready to go home." Alfred told his boss only a few days later. "Actually _go_ home. Not just visit. Go home and _stay_ home."

He was denied his wish. It wasn’t surprising in the least, but he still had hope.

According to his boss, Kiku still needed to _fully_ recover.

"Just because he won't talk doesn't mean he's not better already." He needed to get out of this fucking, _smothering_ place.

Still rejected.

After Alfred hung up, he felt even more angry than he had been when he first called his boss. Was he just going to be trapped in this God forsaken _hellhole_ forever? Fuck that.

Before he made it back to his room for the night, he stopped in front of the other nation's room. Hands were clenched to his sides as he peeked in, eyes adjusting to the darkness. Kiku was breathing calmly in his futon, fast asleep.

_Just end it, you know you want to. End it, and you can finally go home._

Alfred soundlessly began to make his way over, until his foot hit something soft before he could make it all the way to the futon. Automatically knowing what it was, he reached down and picked it up.

He squeezed the pillow, much different from the kind Kiku slept on, in his hands for a moment and breathed in. He walked closer to the futon until he was right beside it.

Kiku looked so peaceful in his slumber.

He truly didn't deserve to be this peaceful.

Alfred stepped over him, clutching the pillow tightly.

_Do it. You know you want to. Fucking **do it**. **End it now!**_

And so he did.

He dropped to his knees and straddled the smaller man, pressing the pillow tight against his face. This definitely forced Kiku awake; he felt him grabbing at the pillow before trying to grab at his arms, nails barely scraping at his skin.

Kiku squirmed, trying to get him off, trying to get air. He couldn’t breathe, his lungs felt as if they were going to burst--!!

He continued to grab at Alfred's arms, trying to wrench them off but to no avail.

_Die already, die die die die **die die die-**_

"Ame-" Kiku's voice was muffled against the pillow.

Alfred stilled, eyes widening. He hastily stood, pulling himself away from the smaller nation's quivering hands.

The moment he let go, Kiku threw the pillow off, gasping for air as he turned on his side, coughing.

_Why didn't you do it, why, you could have been free!_

Alfred watched him, eyes suddenly burning. Kiku stopped coughing after a bit and looked up at him.

The voice that came from Kiku's mouth was feeble, hoarse, "...Why didn't you do it?" His voice was pleading, begging him to answer or at least finish what he couldn’t.

Alfred didn't respond. He couldn't.

He left the room.

The following day, Alfred was finally allowed a trip home _for good_.

+

Alfred felt stuffy in his suit, sitting in the meeting room only seats away from the man he thought he could kill only weeks before.

Kiku looked much healthier than he did when he was recovering; as Feliciano spoke to him excitedly about how happy he was that he was okay, that gentle smile Kiku always seemed to have before this entire ordeal happened was small, but noticeable. When he responded to his ecstatic Italian friend, his voice was much softer than it ever used to be, as if he were afraid that speaking any louder would make the building collapse.

It was difficult to believe that this Kiku was the same one who killed thousands of people during the war. Then again, Alfred realized that is was hard to believe that many of the nations currently sitting in that very room were ever part of the war at all. These nations were now discussing global issues and looking over papers, all the while drinking coffee from typical white mugs.

It was easy to forget, and _terrifying_ , how people like these can suddenly change when in the middle of a war.

Alfred’s eyes trailed back over to Kiku, watching his every movement as he and Feliciano continued to speak. Only when the dark haired man detected he was being watched and turned his head did Alfred bring his attention elsewhere.

The meeting started soon after and came to a halt once it was time for lunch; the nations chattered amongst themselves, making plans to treat or be treated to food. Not as hungry as everyone else (much to many people’s surprise), Alfred turned down various invitations and decided to grab something to drink from a vending machine.

Making his way down the hallway, he greeted the few nations who chose to remain in the building for lunch. Alfred found the nearest vending machine easily, and drank as he walked back to the conference room.

Before making it inside, he heard voices coming from the large room through the open door—two or three people… they sounded like… Feliciano… Ludwig…

“Oh yes, I’m fine.”

Something rested at the bottom of Alfred’s gut when he realized the third person was Kiku.

He backed away from the doorway, keeping close to the wall as he listened.

“I really was so worried you wouldn’t be back!”

“So you have told him many times already.” Ludwig’s stern, yet (at that moment) gentle voice carried itself smoothly throughout the entire room. Alfred heard Kiku chuckle; the sound of a few things clanking against some slightly larger things told him that they were eating in the room, and he needed to go elsewhere.

“I’m so happy America took good care of you!” Feliciano’s innocent statement seemed to strike a nerve within the Japanese man, as a thick silence was the only response he could muster.

“Kiku?” A chair lightly scraped the floor as Ludwig spoke to his friend worriedly. “You’re shaking. Are you alright?” Kiku’s slight laugh left an awful taste in Alfred’s mouth.

“I’m fine.” Kiku assured them again. “America-san was kind to me during my recovery, and took very good care of me. However…”

_He’s going to tell them what you did, you idiot, he’s going to tell them!_

“…I do not think I deserved even a little bit of kindness from him.”

The sick feeling grew even worse, and Alfred took a few more steps away from the room, albeit small ones. He kept listening.

“What are you talking about, Kiku?” Feliciano asked with a heartbroken tone. “You are one of the nicest, most tolerant people I’ve ever met! If anything, you deserve the most kindness out of everyone!” Another silence—this time, it was probably due to Kiku shaking his head.

“I do not know what came over me when I did everything I did during the war. Most of them were orders, but I did everything I did without a single thought or care.” Kiku’s voice softened even more than it already was, “I enjoyed hurting those people.” He breathed out, “Many of those people did not deserve to die, and I only laughed at them.”

The sound of a utensil, most likely chopsticks, was set down. Kiku remained silent for a few more seconds.

“I just want to atone for my crimes, but we all know such crimes can never be forgiven.” Ludwig let out a soft, “Mm.” in response, as if agreeing with him.

Kiku continued, “If anything, I deserved to have been treated far worse than how America-san treated me.” Feliciano let out a soft whine.

“Don’t talk like that, Kiku…”

Alfred only swallowed and turned around, walking away to find somewhere else to finish his drink.

As soon as he finished, the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach grew remarkably worse, resulting in a quick visit to the restroom and emptying his stomach of what he didn’t even eat.

The meeting resumed not long after, but Alfred could not focus at all on the discussion. Mind continuously wandering to what Kiku had said, he ended up making himself feel worse than better.

Back when Kiku…

_Why didn’t you do it?_

When he asked…

…was he begging him to? Did he _want_ Alfred to kill him?

Funnily enough, such a thing couldn’t kill him off anyway. It would only knock him out for a long while, but…

 _Still_.

“Herr Amerika.”

Alfred jolted from his thoughts, clearing his throat awkwardly as he casually leaned forward, “Yes?”

“Do _you_ have any suggestions on this matter?”

Alfred only grinned. The second half of this meeting was going to be a while.

After what felt like _days_ , the meeting came to a close and mostly everyone hastily gathered their things so they could leave as fast as they possibly could. Alfred was one of these people, popping all of the handouts and notes he half-mindedly took into his briefcase, rushing out of the conference room. However, he stepped aside the moment he was out of the room, keeping an eye out for Kiku as he steadily breathed in.

He really didn’t know what to feel now, whether it was hate, disgust, or guilt. All he really wanted to do now was just… talk.

Watching the nations leave the room and bidding several of them goodbye, he finally spotted Kiku as the numbers of those leaving grew smaller.

“Japan.” Upon hearing his name coming from Alfred, the small man looked over, fear flashing through his eyes for only a second.

“America-san…”

“…Can we talk somewhere?” The hesitancy in Kiku’s usually stoic face told the blonde how much he was distrusted at that moment. “We can get something to eat. I’ll pay.”

Kiku clutched the handle of his briefcase tightly with both hands, still very unsure. Before he could respond, Feliciano appeared by his side.

“Kiku!” He draped a friendly arm over his shoulder. “Let’s go grab something to eat! Ludwig said there is a restaurant around here that makes the most _perfect_ food from my home!” Knowing he was pretty much defeated at this point, Alfred made a move to leave, until Kiku responded with a slight smile.

“I am sorry, Feliciano-kun. You two can go on ahead. America-san and I have not spoken for a while, so we are going to catch up.”

Feliciano looked at Alfred, “Oh? Well then, alright!” He looked back at Kiku, giving him a hug. “I’ll call you later, Kiku!”

“Okay. Have fun.” The Japanese man hugged him back; the way his hands clenched tightly to the back of his friend’s shirt dropped the grin from Feliciano’s usually-cheerful face, as he realized something was wrong. Pulling away, Kiku gave him a reassuring smile.

“I’ll see you later…” Feliciano hesitantly turned away, looking at Alfred as he did so. Alfred caught a glimpse of the distrust in his eyes right before he himself looked away. After this talk, he knew Feliciano would make the smaller man tell him everything that had happened.

As soon as the Italian was gone, Kiku spoke up, “Shall we go, America-san?”

“…Yeah.”

They found a restaurant, probably not as snazzy as the restaurant Feliciano had mentioned earlier, but it still looked good, so it would do. Sitting across from each other in a booth, Kiku kept his eyes on his menu, doing all he could to avoid eye contact.

After a moment, Alfred set his menu down, already knowing what he wanted to order. The smaller man did the same, still averting his gaze.

“…Japan, I…”

“Let me interrupt you, America-san.” Kiku suddenly said. “I  am not mad at you. I am not upset, nor do I want to have some sort of revenge towards you for what happened.” Alfred noted a slight tremble in Kiku’s hands on the table as he looked up to finally meet his gaze. “However, I am fearful of you. I am terrified. If you invited me out just to tell me how much of a monster I am, I _will_ leave.”

The guilt settled itself in the blonde’s gut; he suddenly _really_ wasn’t hungry.

Alfred surprised himself with how small his own voice sounded, “…I invited you out just to talk. That’s all.” Kiku nodded, and a waitress came by their table to take their orders. As soon as she left, Kiku spoke again.

“I truly am sorry, America-san.” He turned his eyes down to his hot tea, stirring it slightly, “If I could take back every terrible thing I have done, I would. I really would.” Alfred swallowed uncomfortably.

“Japan…” He said quietly. “…Keeks.” The dark haired man looked at him with slight wide eyes. Alfred was just as shocked at himself as he was; that name hadn’t been used since before the war.

“America-sa-”

“I’m sorry for everything, I… I was _angry_ and _hurt_ with you. You were so different during the war and _weren’t_ the Keeks I knew.”

“Stop…”

Alfred didn’t listen, “I hated you so much, that I…” Kiku reached over, taking a hold of his arm to silence him.

“What is done is done… Alfred-kun.” He said. “Wounds are still fresh… We are all still dealing with those responsible for crimes, and…” A sigh. “…I am tired, Alfred-kun.”

Noting he still hadn’t removed his hand from Alfred’s arm, Alfred did him the favor of doing so. However, instead of moving it back to Kiku’s side of the table, Alfred took it within both of his own. He breathed in, holding onto it tight.

“I missed you,” was the only thing Alfred could even muster himself up to say at that point. “This whole thing’s just been…” He felt the smaller man gently nudge his foot from under the table.

“Enough of that for now… Alfred.” Kiku glanced down at the table, the familiarity of the blonde’s name without the suffix tingling over his tongue. “Let us just… enjoy dinner for once.” He looked back at him, smiling a bit. “Okay?”

Alfred finally found himself smiling along with him after so long. 


End file.
